Forget the 72 Virgins, I'm Headed To The Ukraine

I was thrown out of my memoir class because I was too funny…ergo this blog. I‘m off to the Ukraine to find a wife. I land in Kiev, the capital Wednesday, 8/08 in the morning. I'll be exhausted after two back to back red eyes, I fly Delta all the way. Round trip cost: $1352.00 USD. Kiev, has been described to me as a former communist, run down, almost third world-like area. It is not that many clicks from Chernobyl. They are still glowing a bit. It is supposed to be brimming with desperate, beautiful women. We shall see. My clear thinking is that the worse the spot the better I look. In sweet, glorious Santa Monica, the beautiful women stretch their lovely necks to look around me. On this trip, I consider myself a notch or two above the hedonistic, misogynistic, sex tourist. I’m a marriage tourist with honorable intentions…and a guitar. In 1998 I traveled to St. Petersburg, Russia. It was after my last two longtime girlfriends shattered and re shattered my heart In nine short days.I interviewed 32 beautiful women. I should have stayed longer, but I had to return to run the LA marathon the next day. Elena and I became engaged to marry. She was a 23 year old college student. A tall, slender blonde with green eyes. She lived with her parents 50 kilometers in the country until I sent her money for over year which allowed her to move to the city and land a job and a nice apartment. When I told her I was flying there to get her, she said, “Thank you too much, but I marry someone else, tomorrow.” OUCH! Now I’m experienced, aware of the myriad of pitfalls But you know what, dear reader?, It was fun having a young, beautiful fiancé, fantasizing…until reality set in. Incidentally, during that nine day stay, I only had sex with myself. Did I come close? Well, I pocket vetoed one tasty offer (which I’ll regret forever) and was rebuffed, gently, on two other occasions. Only nine days in Russia...44 days in the Ukraine. So far I only have airline tickets. No hotel, no contact yet with anyone in Kiev. Tonight, at midnight, I’ll call the American ex pat who runs a marriage store in Kiev. It is called the Husbands Agency. This afternoon I was at the super market telling my favorite checker, Joannie, about my upcoming trip. She knows about my past failure in Russia and my last crazy girlfriend, Danielle who had me in a love triangle with a young, handsome quadriplegic!!! Joannie wished me good luck and then the bagger, a young, tall, skinny black kid, asked me, surreptitiously, why I was going to the Ukraine. I told him I really liked blondes. He leaned in closely and with a dreamy look in his eyes he said somewhat lasciviously , “ I like girls with big butts.” We bonded? Stay tuned. More as it occurs… Later that night… At 12:00 AM PCT, 10 AM in Kiev, I spoke for 45 minutes. to the American expat, Jamie who heads the Husbands Agency in Kiev. He’s 38, a veteran, born in Iowa and has lived in Kiev for three years. He will arrange have a driver to pick me up at the airport, $35 USD, he says that’s the same price as a taxi. He is arranging me an apartment for $70 per day. He told me he has 20,000 women in his data base. He asked what age group was I interested in. I replied since I’m over 50, I thought 20 to 50. He said I should focus on 25 to 32. Below 25 won’t work. On a apparent down note, he said only 4% of his clients end up marrying. He shot down my desire to advertise. He said today the women were not as desperate to answer an ad as they were in St Petersburg in 1998. I might only receive 2 or 3 responses. This is interesting as my world traveled brother also advised me not to advertise. His point was that I would be inundated with responses, too many to process. I have to discover if he trying to justify a reasonable price or an outrageous price? Will he bend the truth to my disadvantage? Of course, I want all people to love me, part of my justifiable self esteem thing, so I’m a willing participant. I told him I was apprehensive about calling him because I know an American expat in Russia who had a business like his. My friend was disingenuous in direct proportion to the amount of money one had. As I was between fortunes when I visited him in Russia, we got along well. So, I have an airline ticket, a room,and a ride to the city. So I’m hauling my guitar to the Ukraine. In closing, when Im dialed up the Husband's Agency, Jamie answered the phone with a quiet, seemingly suspicious "hello?". He didn't give his business name. I had to ask if I had the right number. He was not friendly or receptive at all. Did he just wake up? Was this his home phone? Eventually he warmed up and laughed and told me his life story. I told him so many things he must think I’m full of shit. Until later, dear reader, think good thoughts of good people. 118 hours to departure...

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